Hello from the Other Side
by upfrombelow94
Summary: HOTEL: SALLY/LAURA (A guest). On the hunt for the variety of human emotions, Sally meets a new female prey that challenges her obligation to punish and kill addicts.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello from the Other Side**

 **Summary:** SALLY/LAURA (A guest). On the hunt for the variety of human emotions, Sally meets a new female prey that challenges her obligation to punish and kill addicts.

 ** _A/N_**

 _Ever since Hotel started, I've been in love with Sally — her past, her motivation etc. fascinate me and I really wanted to explore her character a little more. However, I didn't feel comfortable enough to write about any of the other Hotel characters so that I decided I would simply use another guest appearance for my storyline. (In case you miss our Queen, Ms. Lange, feel free to imagine Laura as a version of her.)_

 _The title is an ode to Adele's new song, "Hello." I listened to it while writing and when I heard this line, I thought it was perfect._

 _I will change the rating to M as soon as I post a chapter that contains more explicit language, so please make sure to either follow or check the filter for the M-rated section._

 _Anyways, I would love to hear some feedback — suggestions, criticism, any kind of review that lets me know whether I should continue or not. Thank you and please enjoy!_

 **Chapter One**

Dark eyes and red lips, heavy coat and mini-dress, big hair and high heels.

Sally made her way past the reception of _Hotel Cortez_ as if she consisted of the fiercest feelings in the world: passion, self-confidence, desire.

The truth was that Sally hadn't felt anything in a long time — sure, a hint of anger over the lack of limes Liz Taylor regularly put in her Mojito, the annoyance of having to deal with Iris on a daily basis, stuff like that.

The emotions she used to want to drown out with heroin were the ones she now lived for — but could not get.

Ever since she had been pushed out of the window, feelings had become her ecstasy, her rush of energy, her addiction. And since she couldn't find them inside of herself, she had to find them in other people. The celebrity that was too famous to have friends, the detective that had lost his son. How she pitied them, those lost souls that were making her mistakes.

And now she was about to find out what had made the curvy, middle-aged blonde at the bar the damaged woman that she was. Sally had smelled her addiction the second she exited the elevator and had been walking straight towards her ever since, not letting her eyes stray once.

Without making any effort to check whether the seat was available, Sally sat down next to her.

"Martini. Sour," she said coolly, as if Liz Taylor didn't already know her order.

"The regular," she responded and left to prepare her liquor-based work of art.

Being the bold, dead woman that she was, Sally didn't hide her interest in the blonde and, without any hesitation whatsoever, turned to look directly at her.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

She was greeted by a baffled gaze that reminded her that real, living people actually still clung to abundant and silly social rules like privacy and the uncomfortableness of its intrusion.

To her surprise, the woman's initial astonishment slowly transformed into a soft smile.

"I already have a drink." Her eyes pointed to the Bourbon in her hands.

"I was referring to the one after that." Sally couldn't help but smirk seductively even though her original intention had only been to smile.

"I'm Sally," she continued and, deliberately skipping to offer a handshake along with her introduction, she addressed Liz Taylor.

"Keep 'em coming, Liz." Sally pointed to both her and her neighbor's glass.

The bar keeper silently placed the Martini in Sally's hands, which was confirmation enough.

"Laura," the other woman said and took a slow, almost lazy sip from her glass before she vaguely raised it in Sally's direction, "thank you for the future drinks."

Her new friend's apparent hint of disinterest didn't bother Sally; she was easily able to maintain a sense of superiority as she felt extensive pity for Laura's addiction. She saw the flaws clearly, each particle of the blonde a reminder of her own dependence on drugs: the ridiculousness of always looking high, the piles of money that she senselessly threw away, the constant need to inject more poison into her veins. Although the woman might have caught her attention with her with her looks, the truth was that she was pitiful.

Sally took pleasure in the feeling of having an advantage but she was also overcome with desire: a desire to get to know every dark corner of her struggles, a desire to observe her suffering at first hand.

"Your first time at the Cortez?"

Sally's voice sounded as rough as her eye-makeup looked; after 10pm she made a specific effort to sound mysterious.

"Indeed," the pathetic object of her desire answered, unable to reciprocate Sally's level of mysteriousness.

"You will like it here. The history of this place suits," Sally bit the rim of her glass simply for the joy of making Laura wait for the end of the sentence, "your character."

Strangely amused, the guest laughed as she exhaled and Sally noticed that the features in her face became more visible, more distinct: small dimples formed next to the corners of her mouth, a few wrinkles next to her eyes appeared. Her face lit with light emotion that made her look softer, more accessible — and more attractive to the ex-addict who was watching her closely.

"Does it?" She raised her eyebrows and enjoyed the burn of the last sip of her drink run down her throat.

Laura loved the uncomfortable, the dangerous — being at the edge made her feel alive. Not in the happy, refreshed kind of way, but in the way of feeling the weight of the misery eat you inside out. Her chosen pain, she tried to convince herself, was easier to bear than the pain of the world and was, at the same time, a suitable punishment for her continuous failures. The truth was that she hated herself; she loathed every part of the disappointment that was Laura Faye, medicating her self-hatred with excessive consume of alcohol and drugs — and, of course, the occasional sex escapade — anything that could make her numb to reality, even if just momentarily.

She looked down as flashes of the reason for her Bourbon affinity haunted her. Before they could unfold, Liz' hands appeared before her eyes and filled her empty glass with the slightly translucent, brown liquid.

Sally watched, entertained by even the slightest changes in Laura's face, and maintained a self-confident, almost satisfied smile.

"So, Bourbon-girl," she let the words fall off her lips playfully. "What brought you here?"

"How about you tell me what brought _you_ here," Laura countered, surprised at her own boldness that didn't seem so unusual anymore once she considered the amount of alcohol that had to be running through her veins by then.

Sally leaned forward and left the weight of her head on the back of her hands, her elbows braced on the cold surface of the bar's counter.

"I'm the one buying the drinks. You're the one answering the questions."

Her big, black eyes blinked, radiating a dreamy yet sinister look that briefly diminished Laura's confidence. Trying not to let it show, she turned towards Sally, who was shortly distracted by the sudden appearance of her opponent's legs from underneath the counter's shadow.

"How about we relocate this conversation to my room? I'm sure room service can supply us with the appropriate amount of drinks there, too."

"Listen, girl, I'm not your mother. If you want a drink up there, you better get it yourself." Liz Taylor barged in, catching both of the ladies' attention.

While Laura felt seemingly insecure by his remark, Sally put him off by waving her hand casually.

"Don't listen to her," she slid off the bar stool, grabbed Laura's wrist and pulled her away from the bar.

The latter quickly fetched her drink and was too preoccupied with keeping up with Sally's pace to look back to see Liz' reaction.

Sally walked straight into the elevator while her follower rather stumbled into it. Once they had entered, Laura watched the former addict press one of the buttons and laughed it off when she flinched as the doors closed. Suddenly feeling the appealing dizziness of the alcohol, she pressed her back to one of the elevator's walls and let her head fall back so that her eyes were directed towards the ceiling. At first she examined its uncommon design and pattern but stopped as soon as she discovered what seemed like a leak or some other kind of stain. With every second she focused her gaze, her uneasiness grew.

"Is that…," she paused shortly to find the right words without sounding insane, "is that a stain of blood?"

Sally didn't bother to look and simply chuckled while she took a few steps towards the other woman.

"The designers of this house have a peculiar taste."

Given Sally's proximity, Laura's eyes were forced to detach from the mysterious, red spot and soon found themselves captured by what seemed like the exact same color on her newfound friend's lips. Before the boiling steam of sudden desire could settle in her stomach, the elevator scared it away by abruptly coming to a halt. The doors opened with a _ding_ and reminded her to look for her key.

"It's room 75," she started digging through her small purse, "I think it's that way." She nodded to her left.

"Don't worry; I know this place better than I know myself." Sally started walking down the hallway, the sound of her heals dulled by the carpet.

"And I mean that."

She looked over her shoulder casually, making sure Laura had caught on.

* * *

As soon as they walked in, Laura threw the key on the dresser next to the door, set down her freshly refilled glass of Bourbon and took off her purse.

"We should have got you another drink down there." She briefly vanished in the bathroom.

In the meantime, without any hesitation, Sally squatted down to open the bottom drawer of the dresser and emerged with an unopened bottle of vodka.

When Laura returned, she was positively surprised at the sight of the clear liquid in the mysterious lady's hands.

"There's always some vodka here."

Sally opened the bottle, threw away the lid — which both startled Laura and turned her on — and took a big swig before setting it down on the table by the window.

"The only thing you don't have to worry about here is the lack of alcohol."

"Seems like I chose the right hotel, then."

Even though it had only been a few hours since her last fix, Laura started to feel the increasing craving in her body alongside a stifling distraction that she knew would not vanish until she injected more of the poisonous magic. For a second she regretted bringing Sally to her room, the desire to feel the drug in her veins suddenly bigger than the desire to be in the other woman's company. She could never know their stance on the drug when meeting new people and it always took crossing a line inside of her to ask them about it and to, eventually, be able to inject in their presence.

Sally didn't even have to look at her to know that she was craving another rush of energy and she hated her for it. Part of her wanted to run up to her, grab her shoulders, shake her and scream at her until sense would enter her mind. The other part of the ex-addict wanted to see her crave, inject, thrive, decline, crash, suffer — and perhaps even die. Now it seemed to be Sally who needed her fix, a fix so complex that it could never fit through a needle.

Laura finally resolved to disregard her fear and ask her guest; whether Sally fancied heroin herself or not, she shouldn't have a problem with waiting one minute so that at least Laura could take her medicine. When she looked up, though, she suddenly froze when Sally's eyes caught hers and seemed to capture her whole essence at the speed of light. A bright shimmer had spread in her opponent's eyes and had the smallest indication of something fascinating that Laura didn't quite understand. It was something more than vulnerability; rather an oddly reassuring, sad sense of a dark past; a darkness more sincere than that of her usual late-night acquaintances.

Experiencing the journey of Sally's eyes in slow-motion, Laura was unable to comprehend how it was possible that the other woman suddenly stood right in front of her, so close to her face that their noses almost touched. Her mouth opened and, suddenly desperate to feel as much of her counterpart as possible, she inhaled deeply and soon tasted a concoction of Sally's smoke-stained breath and the room's decayed air.

The ghost's eyelids dropped, revealing more of her deep black eyeshadow. Without having to look, she knew that her old, white-skinned friend was already standing behind Laura, sensing her potential without touching her. She was drawn to feel the blonde's lips on hers, the soft touch of comfort and desire but, at the same time, she was unsure whether that would be worth opening up Laura's world to the demon.

Hearing her heavy breathing, the ex-addict grabbed Laura's chin with her right hand and squeezed her cheeks just so her fingernails would leave the slightest dent in them. Before she knew it, Sally pulled the blonde's face towards hers and all at once closed the small distance that was the only space between them.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N_

 _Thanks to all of the readers and reviewers! At first I wasn't sure whether I should continue this story but your comments encouraged me to write more! I always appreciate any kind of feedback. Please enjoy this upcoming chapter that I wrote quite spontaneously. And, most importantly, happy Halloween! Remember: "All monsters are human."_

 **Chapter Two**

Sally's touch felt unusually cold on Laura's Bourbon-burned lips, yet they evoked an overwhelming rush of endorphins in her body that made her ache for more of her opponent's wet, icy skin. Maybe Sally was like heroin, Laura thought: so miserably painful that you couldn't help but want more.

Before she could go after her longing to increase the force of her tongue, the blonde felt her body being pushed back by the same bony hands that had drawn her closer just seconds ago. Seeing her from a distance, Laura couldn't help but look at the other woman with surprised eyes.

Sally could see the monstrous, white-leathered shape of her counterpart behind Laura clearly and, by focusing her gaze on the creature, she hoped it would go away.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Insecure, Laura tried to put her hair back into place.

The dead woman squinted her black-stained eyes in anger, nervous about her companion's presence.

When Laura noticed Sally's facial expression, she turned around in confusion, being greeted by nothing but empty space. After turning back, she realized the mysterious woman in heels had already left her spot close to her.

"Where are you going?"

Sally met her question with a suggestive look and a raised eyebrow.

"Even I need sleep occasionally."

She opened the door and paused to look at the startled blonde before closing it all the way.

And there she was again, stumbling through the dark halls; the halls that reeked of murder, drugs, lies, blood, death. There she was smoking a cigarette, again, leaving an addict, again.

An addict, just an addict — that's what Laura was to her.

But why didn't she kiss her, undress her, fuck her so the demon could release her, then? It was clear that she had to first suffer and then die, Sally knew that. But why was the familiar truth, the inevitability of the demon, of her past, her fate — of _every_ addict's fate — so hard to accept this time?

The dead woman braced herself on the wall next to her room's door and, once she found the keys, entered it hastily, while still holding on to her steaming cigarette.

* * *

The high had faded just as fast as the evening and Laura could feel reality's harsh breath in her face once again: the high was fleeting, happiness was fleeting, life was fleeting. Was it worth living at all when every hope there was would always be followed by another depressing disappointment?

Even though her body ached for another shot of heroin, she knew that her wallet wouldn't allow it. After all, she was now a quasi-divorced woman and heroin wasn't cheap, so she would have to get accustomed to two shots a day.

All of a sudden she felt dirty, weary, used — both her body and her mind — so she decided to take a shower. She stepped out of her black heels, unzipped her black dress and let it slide down her tired body before struggling to remove her tight, see-through black pantyhose.

Leaving her clothes on the floor, Laura made her way to the bathroom and dropped her bra on the way. She immediately turned on the shower and removed her panties while waiting for the water to get as hot as possible.

As soon as she felt the steaming-hot water on her worn-out skin, she felt like bliss was pouring onto her, relieving her body from all worries for just a second. Although she was still confused by Sally's behavior - she didn't know what it was about the woman - her ways had captivated her.

Her darkness was fascinating; Laura felt like it had an attraction on its own - why was it, after all, that people watched horror movies? Because they were drawn to death, to evil, to horror. There was such an ambiguous pleasure in knowing someone had suffered, she thought.

But maybe her darkness was relatable, maybe she just saw a mirror in Sally, maybe she wanted to become Sally: seemingly unaffected by anything at all.

Laura made her way out of the shower and stopped in front of the mirror, finding beauty in the steam that had fogged up its surface. She took the still wet palm of her hand and slowly wiped the mirror to create a little window in the fog. While her hand slid over it, she noticed that one part she had touched still seemed clouded. When she looked closer, she could gradually make out the shape of a milky-white creature that was standing right behind her without making any kind of noise.

Captured by sudden horror, she quickly turned around only to find more hot steam surrounding her.

She told herself that she was tired and scrunched her hair in order to get a grip of her head and her sanity. It was the drugs, she said.

Skipping any further bed preparations, Laura grabbed an old shirt lying nearby, wrapped it around her body half-heartedly and let her tired limbs sink into the bed, falling asleep just as quickly as heroin had entered her body just an hour ago.

* * *

Laura was sitting at one of the tables in front of the bar, sipping coffee. Black – no sugar, no milk. Sally knew she was, and as she let the hot beverage pour down her throat it was almost as if Sally could feel it, too.

The dead blonde made her way to Laura's table, taking every step with sweet regret, pulled back by her fondness for the woman and driven by the addiction of the same.

"I'll have one of those," she sat down without looking at Laura, who noticed Liz Taylor immediately rushing to prepare the coffee machine behind the bar.

"You're awake awfully early." Sally lit a cigarette and took a big drag that filled her body with relaxation.

"I could say the same about you," Laura countered.

"I can never sleep. I wish I could." Sally's voice drifted off for reasons Laura didn't understand but craved to know.

"So, you never answered my questions," Sally bit her dark-colored lips, "what do you do? What's your story?"

"My story?"

Laura laughed as if the question was preposterous. She then reached for her own pack of cigarettes and lit one.

"My story is that I am a lawyer from Santa Monica."

She paused to watch Liz Taylor place the cup of coffee before her newfound friend, somehow uncomfortable with the thought of someone else listening.

"I used to be married to a business man and pregnant with a baby. Until the first one cheated on me and the second one," she looked to the ceiling to avoid exposing her feelings unrestrictedly while staring into Sally's eyes, "left my body before I could deliver it."

Silent tears rolled down Laura's cheeks, filling Sally with waves of ecstasy; a hot vibration of excitement coming from Laura's pain.

How lucky she was, she thought, being able to feel anything at all. Sally would kill – literally – to experience even the worst feelings as profoundly as the living could. Without noticing it, Sally's face, too, was canvass to a single tear that quickly evaporated in the thick air of the room.

Laura smiled when the tears arrived at her mouth and disappeared between her lips. She then wiped the remaining salty substance off her face and laughed out loud – a dichotomy of emotions that increased Sally's excitement and almost transformed it into arousal.

"Well, you can imagine that everything went to shit after that. And now I'm just a lonely woman living in a hotel, waiting for the divorce papers to arrive in the mail."

"Why the hotel?"

Laura paused for a second, startled but oddly enough not offended by the unfitting question and lack of voiced sympathy given the fact that she had just told Sally her story.

"I needed a change. Jeff and I had lived in that house for too long. And I guess I wanted kind of an in-between before settling anywhere else. A certain kind of anonymity can be exciting. Don't you think?"

Any physical signs of sadness had vanished from Laura's face completely and her eyes traced the lobby of the hotel before landing on the other woman filled with a hint of desire.

"I agree," Sally leaned back and flicked her cigarette into her untouched coffee.

"Your turn." Laura said after a moment of silence. "What's your story?"

Sally leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table. She then reached out her left hand and traced Laura's veins on the back of her hand, the latter watching her opponent's movements closely and secretly enjoying them.

Withdrawing her hand, the dead woman got up and addressed the blonde while taking slow steps away from her.

"You'll find out soon enough."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N I apologize for the late update; school has kept me busy and whenever I did have some spare time I was confronted with a lack of inspiration. I am still determined to continue writing this fic, though, so please stay with me! Also, I noticed that I had misgende_ _red Liz Taylor and addressed her as 'he' since I'd written it before it was revealed that Liz was a transgender woman, so I went back and changed it and I apologize! As always, I would appreciate your feedback!_

 **Chapter Three**

The ceiling was dark; high, embraced by shadows, changed by light. Sometimes Sally imagined small patterns on it, almost like a wallpaper - anything to make it more interesting, more alive. But the ceiling was dark; it had remained unchanged since she first stepped into this hotel and, chances were, this was the ceiling she would be stuck with for the rest of her undead life. This would be the _feeling_ she would be stuck with for the rest of her undead life. Or, rather, the lack thereof. But lately it had been her mind that was occupied more than usually and not just by the blur of emotions she perceived around her but by a specific image of the blonde woman she had left at the bar earlier this morning.

If she was honest she didn't know whether she was attracted to her because of the high level of darkness she saw in her or whether it was something entirely different, something more dangerous: the essence of her person, an essence that wasn't meant to be craved but loved, not only wanted but needed. An essence that Sally was impossible to feel - or that's at least what she told herself.

The demon. She did not have full control over it even though she wished she did. It was as much a part of her as it wasn't and she loved it as much as she hated it. Torturing others - addicts - killing them to teach them a lesson, so Sally could watch all of their emotions float through them within the smallest amount of time: happiness, confusion, fright, hope, hopelessness, pain, death. She loved it. She hated it. She wished she could help them, those poor souls - spare them the misery that she herself had gone through before.

But there was another part in her that thought they deserved it; that they were at fault; that they were filthy addicts just like she had been and that they needed to be punished. And through that last part of her conflict the demon was a part of her, the darkest part of her - although some would just call it consequence.

Still, it was only half of her. And the other half steered into a completely different direction, especially now that Laura's face still haunted her and the memory of Laura's lips on hers still brought Sally close to the illusion of feeling desire.

Sally had learned that there are no choices in life but if there were she would now have two: be with Laura and watch her die or walk away and let her live. To be sadistic or selfless, a question that had not got easier with dying.

Sally sat up, reached for a cigarette and drew in a big breath while lighting it. Maybe there was another way, Sally thought, maybe there could be some kind of compromise. The delusion of having any control over the demon turned her on in the oddest way.

She swung her legs off the bed and poured herself a glass of her favorite alcoholic beverage. Downing it in one go, she slid the glass back onto the table and rushed out the door, only taking her coat which loosely flowed alongside her right shoulder.

* * *

Entranced by the new rush of sweet poison she had just shot through her veins, Laura braced herself on the dresser before her and let her head hang between her arms, closed her eyes and carefully listened to the quietness around her while her body started to get louder and the pace of her blood got faster.

Her mind wandered back to the elevator and Sally - the stain of what had possibly been blood that she'd seen, the mysterious people she observed every day. This place felt odd and dark yet strangely comfortable to her. It, too, was a mystery, but she knew herself well enough to know that she lived for the mystery.

Suddenly, Laura heard a sound - almost like a cracking but softer, followed by a stifled exhale. She lifted her head and turned towards her bed where the sound seemed to be coming from. The blonde squinted her eyes and was rather confused than scared as she approached it. Standing right next to the queen-size bed, she squatted down while placing one hand right on top of the mattress. Without thinking, she tilted and then rested her head next to her hand and looked over the landscape of the soft, white-turned-beige material.

The woman didn't know whether it was the heroin or something entirely different that made her think she had heard a faint voice say ' _kill…'._ She pressed her head into the mattress as hard as she could until she was finally able to make out a whole sentence. _'This place will kill you.'_

Less obviously shocked that she had expected herself to be, Laura lifted her head in perplexity that only now started to turn into fear. When she looked back at the mattress, she noticed that there was a growing blood stain right where her head had been placed before. Reflexively, she put her hand on the left side of her head only to find that it had been stained with the same blood that was on the mattress. Terrified, she got up and, while still staring at her hand, she walked backwards without thinking.

All of a sudden, a cold hand touched her shoulder and she turned around, gasping in shock.

"Don't worry, it's me." Sally teased.

"How the fuck did you get in here?" Laura asked, not mad but shaky.

Sally didn't answer and simply dropped her coat to the floor while walking determinedly towards Laura, who walked backwards to keep a distance between her and the other woman out of courtesy.

"I don't understand, I heard a voice coming from the mattress - I think - and then-" Laura muttered.

"Don't try to figure this place out."

"And then there was blood and now it's on my face and I just don't _understand…_ "

"The only people who understand are the ones who have been absorbed by this place, who have _become_ this place. Trust me, you don't _want_ to understand."

Sally stopped when Laura's back hit the wall and let just enough space between them so she could look her in the eyes without their noses touching.

The dead woman then grabbed the older woman's chin and turned her face so her eyes could wander over the blood-stained half of it. Letting her hands follow her eyes, Sally traced a line through the blood on Laura's cheek and then spread it on her own lips. Laura watched as it mixed with her dark purple lipstick almost paralyzed by each of Sally's movements.

"I do…" Laura gasped as she realized the proximity of the other woman, "want to understand."

Sally grabbed her opponent's chin once more, this time harder, so that her long and pointy nails left dents in Laura's cheeks; small dents of pain that Laura wished she minded but didn't.

"Do you?"

Sally looked down briefly, thereby breaking her confident stare, and swallowed.

"Quit heroin, then."

"What?!" Laura asked, given the unexpected nature of Sally's request.

"Quit the drugs. Then I'll show you."

TBC


End file.
